He glanced down at Vivian.
She was flushed and trembling, eyes glassy, lips parted, trying to keep her composure while her inner thighs were soaked from everything he’d done to her under that perfect, innocent little wedding gown.
She looked like sin wrapped in satin. A blushing bride on the edge of begging. And no one in that room had a single f*****g clue.
She looked so sweet.
So pure.
So fuckable.
And she was his.
Christopher turned back to the crowd, raising his champagne flute once more, his voice velvet and commanding, dripping with charisma and quiet filth.
“But before we move on to dessert and dancing,” he said smoothly, “I’m going to take a brief moment with my bride. Just her and I.”
The crowd laughed and clapped.
Vivian swallowed hard.
And then someone shouted from t
